


and i've just let these little things slip out of my mouth

by crispierchip



Series: and i've just let these little things slip out of my mouth [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Coming Out, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 02:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10844172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispierchip/pseuds/crispierchip
Summary: Jimmy comes out to Brady in November.





	and i've just let these little things slip out of my mouth

**Author's Note:**

> working title for this was "jimmy/brady - helping out a bro" so do with that what you will
> 
> actual title is from little things by 1d, mostly bc of [this](https://vine.co/v/bVOvJHxFMqH)
> 
> there's also a [primer](http://tboobs.tumblr.com/post/159978808905/jimmy-vesey-and-brady-skjei-primer), if you want to know more about them :)

Jimmy comes out to Brady in November. It’s after a game, a 5-0 win over St Louis, and they’re both feeling high on it. 

They’ve just gotten back from the bar, laughing over how bad Zuc struck out with the barwoman earlier and Jimmy’s laughing so hard, tears running down his face with it, and his face starts to suddenly contort, turning to something painful. He makes this sound, closer to a sob than laughter, and buries his face in his hands, his body shaking with it.

Brady is struck speechless for a moment, doesn’t know what to do, and then he gets on the couch next to Jimmy, reaches out to touch him, because that’s what you do, right, when someone’s crying right in front of you. 

Jimmy jerks away though, mumbles, “Don’t,” from behind his hands, so Brady doesn’t.

“Jimmy, buddy, what’s wrong?” he asks instead, voice quiet, a little shaky, because he doesn't know quite how to deal with this. “Talk to me.”

Jimmy makes another sobbing sound, this one racking his body with how deep it is, and Brady has never felt this helpless in his entire life. 

“Buddy,” he says again, doesn’t know what to follow it up with, so he just lets the single word hang between them. 

Jimmy tries to suck in a breath, but it must get stuck in his throat somewhere, because he just ends up choking on it. 

“Hey, man, breathe,” Brady tells him, uselessly. He reaches out again and this time Jimmy doesn't pull away. Brady rests his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, gentle, too afraid of spooking him. “What’s wrong?” he asks again, and hopes to god Jimmy can’t tell how out of his depth he feels right now. 

There’s a long moment then, Jimmy heaving for breath and Brady trying to rub his back through it, and then Jimmy says, “I’m so scared,” and it’s broken, so fucking sad that Brady doesn’t know what to do with it, with himself. 

“Scared of what, buddy?” Brady pushes, figures, in the back of his mind, that he probably shouldn't. “What are you scared of?”

Jimmy shakes under Brady’s hand. “People finding out,” he whispers, and Brady doesn’t know what that  _ means _ . 

“Jimmy, you’re really not making any sense here,” he says, gentle, his hand rubbing circles on Jimmy’s back because he doesn’t want to push Jimmy away now.

Jimmy turns to looks at him then, eyes red and ips even more so, bitten; wet. “Don’t make me say it,” he says, and it sounds pleading, and Brady doesn’t know what  _ it  _ is. 

He presses his lips together, trying to sludge through the drunken haze in his head to piece together what Jimmy’s saying. He thinks about Jimmy in the time Brady has known him, and, inexplicably, the only thing that comes to mind is his unwillingness to share Brady’s bed with him. How he’s always seeing Jimmy with girls but none of them make it home with him. He thinks about what Jimmy is so scared to have come out, and then thinks that play professional sports for a living. 

Brady looks at Jimmy now, and Jimmy’s broken. “Are you - ”  _ gay _ , he means to ask, but Jimmy cuts him off. 

“Please don’t say it,” he says, and Brady thinks he gets it, now. 

“Oh, buddy,” he says. 

“Yeah.” Jimmy swallows. His voice is wet, but at least he’s not crying any more. 

Brady tries to come up with something else to say, something more insightful, and comes up short in just about every aspect. He looks at Jimmy who is honestly terrified and wonders if he’s the the first person Jimmy has told - or, not told, but let guess. 

“Let’s go to bed, okay,” Brady manages in the end, which feels lacking. 

Jimmy huffs, but gets up. He stumbles, a little, and Brady reaches out to steady him. Jimmy pulls back like he’s been scorched. “Dude,” Brady tells him. 

“Sorry, just - ” Jimmy cuts himself off, and flees the room. 

Brady doesn’t really sleep, that night. He tosses and turns a lot, all the while hoping Jimmy won’t be able to hear him through the wall separating their bedrooms. He thinks Jimmy doesn’t, but then again what does he know. 

+

The next morning, Brady runs into Jimmy at the kitchen, which is only to be expected, since they, like, live together. Jimmy looks fine, a little bit like he has a headache, but his eyes look fine, and he smiles at Brady when he sees him. He asks Brady if he wants some eggs, which, Brady didn’t even know they had eggs in their fridge, but he’ll take it, if Jimmy’s offering, and it’s like last night never happened, basically. 

If that’s Jimmy’s cue, Brady knows he should probably take it, except he can't help but ask. “So, about last night,” he starts, and Jimmy’s face twists into something where he’s biting into his eggs. 

“You remember that?” he asks, which, Brady wasn’t even that drunk, he remembers everything. “I was hoping you’d - ”

“Forgotten? Yeah, no,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t really work. “I just - I wanted to say - ” Brady struggles to pin down the right words, and eventually ends up fumbling out, “No one would care, is what I’m trying to say.”

Jimmy looks at him then, gives him this look like Brady’s honestly stupid beyond every imagination. “Are you serious?” he says, and it’s pretty clear, he thinks Brady isn’t. 

“I mean, we’re in NYC,” Brady tries. He sees the way Jimmy is looking at him, and he’s starting to  _ feel  _ pretty stupid. 

“The team would care. Management would care,” Jimmy says. He’s dropped his fork, now, and his hands are starting to shake. “My parents - fuck, Brady, they’d care.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Brady says, quick; placating. “Do they know?” he asks, after a few seconds. 

Jimmy shakes his head, then straightens abruptly. “You better not - ”

“Jesus, Jimmy, I wouldn't,” Brady cuts him off, because he’s an asshole sometimes, but he’s not that big of an asshole. “I mean, they’re your parents though, I’m sure they wouldn’t - ”

“What do you know about it?” Jimmy asks then, cool, almost harsh. It shuts Brady right up. Jimmy shakes his head. “Sorry, just,” he says, “I don’t want them to know.”

“Okay.” Brady nods. He’s known about this for less than twelve hours and he already feels like he’s fucking up twelve ways to sunday. “Okay,” he says again. “You just scared me last night, is all,” he admits.

“Sorry,” Jimmy says. He sounds like he means it. Then, “I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“Jesus, Jimmy, it’s not about that,” Brady says. “I’m just - i’m worried about you. You were really - last night, you - ”

“I’m sorry if I scared you, but I’m fine,” Jimmy says. He even tries to give Brady a small smile. “I’ve known for a long time.”

And Brady doesn’t want to fuck up further but saying to wrong thing, or pushing where he shouldn’t, so he just says, “Okay,” and they eat the rest of their breakfast in silence.

+

Unsurprisingly, the next time they talk about it, it’s after another night out. Neither of them has had too much to drink, but they’re both tipsy, and Jimmy stumbles awkwardly getting into the apartment. Brady thinks it’s kind of cute, how awkward he is, though in a way that he thinks puppies are cute. He doesn’t spend too long thinking about it, instead ushering Jimmy to the living room and collapsing on the couch. 

Brady’s still hyped from the game and the drinks, and he doesn’t feel much like sleeping, so he turns on the TV and Jimmy joins him. He keeps mumbling at Brady to change the channel until it lands on an infomercial program, and then they start laughing over the products being sold.

It’s during a lull in the conversation that Brady thinks to ask, and even then, it’s not really a concrete thought, just something that springs to mind. 

“So, have you ever - ” he starts, a little uncertain. Jimmy looks at him, head tilted to the side like he’s trying to figure out what he means. When he doesn’t, Brady elaborates. “You know, a boyfriend.”

Jimmy’s eyes grow wide and terrified, and he looks around as if there might be someone in their house, watching them, waiting for him to be outed. Brady remembers how scared Jimmy was the other night, how scared he still is, probably, and feels sad, inexplicably. 

“Jesus, dude,” Jimmy hisses. He’s still looking around, paranoid, and Brady is glad that he at least thought to do this when they both have had something to drink instead of being completely sober. “You can’t go around saying shit like that.”

“There’s no one here,” Brady points out gently. “It’s just us.”

Jimmy seems to deflate a little at that, and Brady doesn’t know if he just needed the reminder or what. “I - no,” he says then, quiet, a little mumbly, the way he gets when he’s nervous.

“How come?” Brady pushes, and he doesn’t know why. Part of him knows it’s wrong; knows that he shouldn't be pushing Jimmy now, not when he’s tipsy and has his guard down, but mostly he can’t seem to let it go. 

Brady expects Jimmy to drop it, to get up and leave, but Jimmy just shrugs. “I guess I just haven't found the right - ” he cuts himself off, clears his throat. “I haven’t found the right one.” 

He can’t even utter the word  _ guy _ , and Brady doesn’t even know what he’s doing here. “That’s okay,” he says, mostly just so he has something to say.

Jimmy is quiet for a long moment, both of them are. Brady looks at the TV across from him and Jimmy looks at the ceiling, and it’s not awkward, but it’s not comfortable either. “I’ve never, you know,” Jimmy says suddenly.

“Never what?” Brady asks. He crosses his fingers over his stomach and sinks into the couch a little bit more.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me say it?” Jimmy says, but it sounds like he’s laughing. “I’ve never had sex,” he admits. “I mean, I’ve done handjobs, but they don’t really count.”

Brady swallows. He wonders what Jimmy looks like, if he’s blushing, so he turns to look. Jimmy is still looking at the ceiling, but his profile is a little flushed, either from the alcohol or his confession, Brady doesn’t know. Probably a little bit of both. 

“How come?” Brady asks. His throat is a little dry and he swallows. He supposes Jimmy has sort of a funny looking face, but he’s not ugly. Brady has seen him get to work with a girl, and he has game, but maybe not the kind of game he wants.

Next to him, Jimmy shrugs. “Too scared, at first,” he says.

“What about now?” Brady asks. 

Jimmy huffs. “Can you imagine that? Walking up to a guy and saying I’m a virgin at 22?” he laughs, like he can. “He’d laugh in my face.”

And it’s terrifying, how much Brady doesn’t want that. He feels his stomach go tight, his fingers clench. He has to swallow, hard.

“Plus, I wouldn't know what the hell to do,” Jimmy goes on. Hs eyes are shut, now, his body a long line on the couch cushion. Brady looks at him for too long. 

“I could - I could help,” he says, “if you wanted?”

Jimmy opens his eyes, sits up to face him. Their eyes meet, and Brady holds his gaze. “What? Like a wingman?” Jimmy asks. He chuckles, a little, at the image probably. “No thanks.”

And that’s not quite what Brady meant. “Not like a wingman. More like - ” he has to cut himself off, take a breath. “You could practice on me,” he says. “If you wanted.”

Jimmy’s eyes grow comically wide, and then they narrow into slits, as he looks at Brady. He opens his mouth, then purses his lips. “You’re not - into guys,” he says finally, and Brady lets out a breath. 

“No,” he says. “But I have a dick.”

Jimmy laughs at that, so hard that he has to clutch his stomach. “Jesus, Brady,” he gets out. “Warn a guy.”

“It’s true,” Brady says, a little defensive. 

Jimmy sombers. He sits the rest of the way up and plants his palms in the cushion behind him. “What? For real?”

Brady thinks he's starting to flush, and he doesn’t want Jimmy seeing that, so he runs a hand over his face. “Yes, for real,” he says. “It’s better me than some stranger.” Which is really what it comes down to.

Jimmy looks at Brady like he’s not really sure if he should believe him. “And you’re totally cool with it?” he asks. 

Brady shrugs. “I just want to help,” he says. “Anyway I can.” He’s starting to get a little flustered, he can tell, and he wants to look away but also not. Doesn’t want to miss the way Jimmy looks at him, different now, different with something Brady can’t quite pinpoint, or the way Jimmy licks his lips. 

“Okay,” Jimmy says. He sits up and gets on his knees between Brady’s legs, just like that, and Brady pretty much chokes on his breath. 

“What? Now?” he asks. His legs twitch, and his dick jumps in his jeans, but he’s in his early twenties, it would take effort for that not to happen. 

Jimmy shrugs. He settles his hands on Brady’s knees, the most forward Brady’s seen him yet, and pushes them open a little wider. “Unless you have something planned?” he asks, running his thumb over the jut of Brady’s knee.

And Brady doesn’t, not really. “Uhm,” he says, lamely. “Sure, go ahead.”

Jimmy chuckles nervously. His hands go to Brady’s belt, unbuckle it and get his tight as fuck jeans down to his ankles. “Tell me if I do something wrong,” Jimmy says, and it’s a little quiet, very soft, drives straight through Brady’s chest. 

“Sure, bud,” he says. He thinks about it for a second, then decides screw it and reaches for Jimmy’s hair, runs his fingers through it. 

Jimmy shivers, Brady feels it and finds himself wondering if anyone’s touched Jimmy like this before. He realizes the asnwer’s probably a no, and a sharp thrill goes through him, catches around his ribcage and refuses to let go. “I’ll tell you,” he says, mostly just scrambling for something to fill the silence. 

Jimmy nods and hooks his fingers into Brady’s underwear, pulls it down his thighs. He looks at Brady’s half-hard dick for a moment like he’s intimidated by it, or more like intimidated by the act, and then he wraps a hesitant hand around him. He strokes Brady once, twice, and Brady’s pretty much choking on his breath, small, embarrassing sounds dropping from his lips. 

“Is this okay?” Jimmy asks, and it’s quiet, a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s really good,” Brady tells him. He wants to throw his head back and sigh, but he wants to keep looking at Jimmy more, so he does that. Looks at Jimmy’s long lashes, his perpetually flushed face and smiles, a little. “You’re doing awesome,” he says, because he feels Jimmy needs to hear it. 

Jimmy ducks his head at the praise and leans in to take Brady’s dick into his mouth. He sucks gently on the head, and Brady does throw his head back now, can’t help it. His fingers tighten in Jimmy's hair on their own accord, and he pulls, a little. Jimmy makes a noise in his throat, Brady feels it, so Brady does it again, a little harder, feels Jimmy make the tiniest sound around him.

Jimmy can’t take Brady very deep, and his teeth scrape Brady’s dick a couple of times, making him hiss, and it’s not over all the best blowjob of Brady’s life. Jimmy looks so focused though, his brows scrunched together and his fingers a death grip on Brady’s knee and Brady doesn’t have the heart to tell him anything. 

Instead, he praises Jimmy, soft words that he thinks Jimmy likes, judging by how progressively redder his face gets, and strokes his hair. Pulls him back when Jimmy chokes, once, or when his teeth get a little too close to Brady’s dick.

Brady warns Jimmy before he comes, gives him enough time that Jimmy can pull away and then some. Jimmy’s face looks so red, his lips even more so, and all Brady can think about is splattering him with his come, how that would look like. 

“Hey, can I come on your face?” he ends up asking, just going for it. 

Jimmy looks up at him with his long lashes, his hazy eyes, so trusting. He nods, and it feels like a punch to the gut, has Brady thrusting up into his hand, a handful of times, before he comes on Jimmy’s face. Jimmy riles back from it, after the first spurt, but he seems to catch himself and hold still after that, until Brady finishes off.

Brady looks down at him and his mouth falls open, a little, his dick giving a weak twitch. “Jesus,” he says. “You look - ” he cuts himself off, shakes his head. “Get up here.”

Jimmy’s face goes tight, suddenly, and he pulls back, scrambles to get to his feet. He’s hard, Brady can make out that much, which makes what he say next all that much stranger. “No, I’ll just…” he gestures toward the bathroom, then at his face, and Brady is just left staring,as Jimmy practically runs to the bathroom. 

“What the fuck,” Brady whispers to himself once Jimmy is gone, because what even. It’s not like Brady was going to let Jimmy fuck his mouth, or even blow him. He’d maybe jerk him off, maybe not even that, just whisper a couple of words in his ear while Jimmy jerked himself off. Brady doesn’t think an offer for a handjob waranteed that kind of a reaction. 

Brady sighs, and pulls his jeans back up, doesn’t bother with his belt as he makes his way to his bedroom. He can hear the shower running as he passes the hallway, and wonders if Jimmy’s jerking off, if he’s just standing there under the steam feeling bad. 

He thinks about opening the door to check, but when he tries the door is locked, so he lets it go and moves on to his bedroom. He leaves the door open, in case Jimmy needs something, but Brady hears the shower turn off after a few minutes, hears doors opening and closing, and Jimmy doesn't need anything. 

+

The next morning. Jimmy acts like nothing’s happened, so Brady follows his lead. They go out for breakfast, then head to practice, chill on the couch when they get back home. In the afternoon, Jimmy leaves to hang out with Millsy and Brady texts Haysie to see if he’s up to do something. 

They end up going bowling, where Haysie spends the entire time complaining about how unfair it is that he’s losing. Brady laughs at him and buys him dinner after the game to soothe his hurt ego. Brady blushes, a little, when Haysie asks him how Jimmy’s doing, but Brady manages to be pretty chill about it so he doesn’t think Haysie suspects anything. 

+

Jimmy and Brady don’t practice again until almost a week later, on the road. Jimmy’s still keyed up from his goal, and he follows Brady into his room, asks, in a shy voice, “You wanna?”, and it’s mostly his furious blush that’s the giveaway for Brady.

Brady is not, in his right mind, going to say no to getting off, so he nods, and lets Jimmy push him up against the door. Jimmy takes off his jacket and simply gets on his knees, and Brady's eyes widen with it. He’s caught staring, at Jimmy’s eyes, his lips; how he’s still mostly dressed in his game day suit. 

“That’s not good for your knees,” Brady finds himself mumbling when Jimmy unzips his pants, pulls them down his thighs. 

Jimmy huffs and looks up at him. He’s flushed, and he gets even more redder once he says, “I’ll make it quick, then.” Brady is almost certain that’s the goal talking, the win, because Jimmy is not usually that confident, but Brady likes it, like this side of him. Thinks Jimmy might even let Brady get him off after this.

Jimmy, true to his word, does make it quick, has Brady breathing hard in just a few minutes, and, damn, he’s a quick learner.

After, Jimmy straightens, leans in a little bit, and Brady thinks this might be it. He reaches for Jimmy’s hip, just to touch him, but Jimmy curls away from it. 

“You don’t want - ” Brady tries, and he’s starting to find it strange now.

Jimmy swallows, Brady can make out in the quiet of the room and the jump of his throat. “No, it’s - I’m good,” he says.

Brady looks down, and he can see Jimmy’s hard, the front of his slacks tented with it. “You sure?” he teases, and Jimmy looks away, his face a deep, deep red, all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Yeah,” he says, and it’s - it’s a little off, so Brady lets it go. “Okay. You wanna watch something or…” he trails off, uncertain of whether or not he should acknowledge it, but Jimmy flushes anyway.

“No, I - I’m pretty beat,” Jimmy says, so Brady steps aside and lets him leave.

+

The third time, Brady doesn’t have it. When Jimmy makes to get on his knees, Brady hooks a hand around his elbow and holds him in place. Jimmy looks at him, a little confused, a little frantic; the usual for him, whenever they do this.

“You’ve had enough practice,” Brady tells him. 

He moves back towards the bed, dragging Jimmy with him. He sits down on it, on the edge, and pulls on Jimmy’s elbow until Jimmy gets it, climbs up into his lap. Jimmy’s awkward about it, a little fumbly, and Brady doesn’t know if that his normal setting or something that stems from his inexperience.

“What are you doing?” Jimmy asks, voice climbing high, when Brady starts to rub him through his shorts. Jimmy’s holding himself so tightly, so frigidly on top of Brady, and Brady wonders if he’s gone about this the wrong way. 

“This can feel good for you too,” Brady says simply. He rubs a little harder and feels Jimmy start to get hard, slips his hand under Jimmy’s short and cups him in his hand.

“I - I know that,” Jimmy manages to get out. His voice is a little shaky, same as his body, and Brady slips an arm around his waist, holding him close. 

“Okay,” Brady says. He starts to stroke Jimmy off, and Jimmy makes a sound, so incredibly quiet, just for Brady’s ears. He shudders, when Brady rubs his palm over the head of his cock, and almost topples over. 

“Put your arm around me,” Brady tells him. 

Jimmy is slow moving, a little hesitant, but he wraps one arm around Brady’s neck, the other resting on his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Brady says. He says it quietly, and, on top of him, Jimmy relaxes, just a little. Brady shelves that for any future encounters and keeps his voice lowered, now, talks to Jimmy in hushed tones and soft words, until Jimmy is bucking into his hand, hips jerking every second stroke. 

“You gonna come for me?” Brady pushes, just to - just to see.

“Shut up, shut up,” Jimmy hisses from between his teeth. “Don’t talk like that,” he says, so Brady doesn’t. He jerks Jimmy off and keeps his mouth shut, and pretty soon Jimmy’s got his face buried in Brady’s neck, his nose pressed to his throat, and he’s breathing hard, panting into Brady’s skin. 

Brady tightens his hand, works him a little faster. His arm’s got a vice grip around Jimmy’s waist, and he can feel the way Jimmy’s chest shakes. “Come on, buddy,” he murmurs, which he thinks is an acceptable thing to say, since Jimmy doesn’t tell him to shut up again. 

Jimmy’s hips twitch, his teeth press into Brady’s shoulder. Brady, on an impulse, turns and kisses his temple, and Jimmy comes, coating Brady’s hand with it, both their shirts. Brady strokes him until he comes down and then some, until Jimmy is a shuddering mess, arching away from Brady’s hand. 

“Been holding onto that for a while, buddy, huh?” Brady mumbles, wiping his hand on his stained shirt. 

“Shut up,” Jimmy sighs, climbing off him. “Does this fall under ‘practicing’?” He means for it to be a jab, Brady thinks, but it’s too fucked out to come across as one. 

“Sure,” Brady says easily. He gives Jimmy a smile, at which Jimmy rolls his eyes. 

Jimmy tucks himself back in and sits next to Brady on the bed. His hands fall to his sides, a little awkward, and he gestures at Brady’s lap. “You want me to - ”

“If you want to,” Brady says honestly, and gasps when Jimmy wraps a hand around him.

After, when they’re both laying on Brady’s bed a few inches apart from each other, Brady finally grows the balls the ask Jimmy about it. “What’s with the - not getting off thing?”

Jimmy shrugs, next to him. “I just didn’t want you to freak out,” he says easily. 

“Freak me out,” Brady repeats.

“Yeah, you know, sometimes straight guys freak out over dick-touching,” Jimmy elaborates.

“Are you - speaking from experience?” Brady asks, a little hesitant because he’s not sure of his footing here.

Jimmy’s silent, which Brady supposes is answer enough.

“I’m not gonna freak out,” he promises.

+

Jimmy’s a little distant, the next few days, but Brady doesn’t freak out, and Jimmy starts to slowly relax. 

“I think,” he starts, one afternoon, a couple of weeks later, after they’ve gotten home from practice. 

Brady’s on the couch messing around on his phone, but makes a prompting noise. 

“I think I want to tell my parents,” Jimmy finishes.

Brady's fingers freeze and he drops his phone on his stomach, turns to Jimmy. Jimmy laying on his side of the couch, but it’s stiff, his foot twitching next to Brady’s head. Brady doesn’t need to ask what Jimmy’s talking about, he knows.

“Okay,” Brady says, a little forced. Jimmy keeps looking at the TV, his foot still jumping. “How come?”

Jimmy shrugs, as much as he can laying down. “I don’t - I don’t think - ” Jimmy sighs. “I don’t want this to be a secret any more. Not from them,” he says. 

Brady bites his lips to keep from smiling. He knows this is big for Jimmy, Jimmy who cried when he first came out to Brady, Jimmy who still has a hard time talking about this.

“That’s good,” Brady says, and tries not to sound too excited but not too discouraging either, tries to strike a balance that will make Jimmy feel encouraged but not pressured.

“I don’t know yet. I don’t wanna do it over the phone,” Jimmy goes on. “Maybe christmas. I’ll only be there for a couple of days, so if - ” he cuts himself off, clears his throat. “I won’t be there for too long.”

Brady’s only met Jimmy’s parents once, when they flew out for Jimmy’s first game, so he can’t say anything to that. He wishes he could. “You nervous?” he asks. 

That makes Jimmy laugh, a short thing that sounds like relief. “Of course I’m nervous,” he says. “Are you kidding?”

Brady smiles. “I guess that was a stupid question,” he says. 

Jimmy shrugs again. “No more stupid than me not telling them for so long,” he says. It sounds a little sad, and Brady doesn’t like that. 

“It’s okay if you weren’t ready,” Brady says. 

“I mean, I’m not ready now either,” Jimmy says. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but I guess this is the closest I’ll come to it.”

Brady swallows. He thinks about Jimmy’s position, scared of admitting something to his parents in fear that they’d turn their backs on him, and he hates the thought. “If you need anything - ” he starts.

“I know,” Jimmy says, before Brady has a chance to finish, and it sounds genuine. 

+

Brady goes home for the holidays, and it’s only for two days, but it’s better than nothing. It’s good to see his family, be away from hockey for a couple of days.

Brady and Jimmy keep up a steady stream of texts between them, mostly stuff about their trips, a funny video a couple of times. Brady never asks, he doesn’t want to pry, but it eats at him, whether or not Jimmy told his parents; how they reacted. He tells himself to be patient, and it eventually pays off. 

Jimmy calls him on Christmas day, in the morning. Brady is on his bed, messing around on his laptop before his family opens presents, and he sits up when he reads Jimmy’s name on the screen of his phone. 

“Hi,” Brady says when he picks up, trying to act like he’s heart’s not doing double time in his chest. 

“Hey,” Jimmy says. His voice is - it’s strange. A little wet, Brady thinks, definitely rough. “Merry Christmas,” he goes on, then laughs. 

Brady laughs too, mostly because he feels like he has to. “Merry Christmas, bud,” he says. 

There’s a pause, a long one, both of them breathing into the phone, and then Jimmy says, “I told them.”

“Oh,” Brady says. He sits up a little more, pushes his laptop away. He waits for Jimmy to go on, and, when Jimmy doesn’t, asks, “How did it go?”

“I think…” Jimmy starts. He chuckles again and takes a breath. “They were surprised, I guess.” Jimmy pauses again but goes on unprompted. “It went okay. We hugged. My mom and I cried a little,” he says. 

“Okay,” Brady says, can’t help how relieved he sounds. “But why - you sound a little…” he trails off, uncertain of what word to use. Maybe  _ underwhelmed _ . 

“I guess - it was this huge thing in my mind, and they just.” Jimmy huffs. “They just said okay and that was it.”

“That’s good, right?” Brady can’t help but ask. 

“It is,” Jimmy says. “I just feel stupid now,” he admits. 

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Brady says, and it comes out honest, too clear. 

There’s silence, on the other end of the line, long enough for Brady to swallow, once; twice. “Thanks, Brady,” Jimmy says finally. His voice is a little soft, and Brady’s stomach curls, for some reason. 

They stay on the phone for the next little while, talking about what the holidays have been like so far, their families, Jimmy’s sister’s new boyfriend who Jimmy doesn’t like, and it’s probably the most Brady's heard Jimmy say in one go. Brady doesn’t know what prompted it, if it’s finally Jimmy coming out to his parents or how much Jimmy's missed his family, but Brady decides he likes it. 

They finally hang up when Brady’s mom knocks on his door for him to come downstairs, and Brady’s got a ridiculous smile on his face by that time, wide enough that his mom asks him who he was talking to. Brady ducks his head and ducks the question too, says, “Just Jimmy.”

+

Brady and Jimmy have mostly stuck to handjobs and blowjobs, but Brady’s too busy finding it hot to be surprised when Jimmy asks Brady to fuck him. 

“I want you to - ” Jimmy starts, then cuts himself off. He looks around the room, fidgety. “Can you - ” he stops again, and Brady can see how he’s starting to twist into himself a little, closing off, and he doesn't want that. 

“You gotta give me a little more, buddy,” he says. He curves his hand over Jimmy’s neck and leans in, a little, until their lips meet, soft and a little wet. Jimmy makes a noise into Brady’s mouth, mostly surprise, and Brady can’t blame him; they haven’t done this before either.

“Fuck me,” Jimmy pulls back to whisper, his eyes shut, hands gripping at Brady’s shoulders, and Brady shivers. 

“You don’t even - ” Brady shakes his head. How does Jimmy even  _ ask  _ that. “Yeah,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss Jimmy again, until Jimmy is breathing hard, hips making tiny hitching motions into Brady.

“Bed?” he asks, quiet the way he knows Jimmy prefers. 

Jimmy gives him a small smile like he totally knows what Brady is doing, and then nods. 

“Yours or mine?” Brady asks, because he wants Jimmy to be comfortable.

“Yours is fine,” Jimmy says. 

Brady links their fingers together and leads Jimmy down the hall, to his bedroom. It’s messy, the bed unmade, clothes strewn everywhere, but it’s not even the worst Jimmy has ever seen it, so Brady doesn’t bother apologizing. 

Instead he sits on the bed, pats the space next to him until Jimmy joins him. Jimmy’s holding himself so tightly, hands balled into fists, leg twitching, and Brady doesn’t think this is going to work, not like this. He puts his hand on Jimmy’s leg, over his knee. 

“Sorry,” Jimmy mumbles. He’s looking at the floor, almost shaking with what Brady guesses are nerves. 

“‘S okay,” Brady says. He turns and puts his other hand on Jimmy's jaw, tips his face to the side until their eyes meet. Jimmy looks away almost immediately, and Brady can see he’s flushing furiously, and he doesn’t want to make this more difficult for Jimmy than it already is, so he leans in and kisses him gently. 

Jimmy makes a sound into Brady’s mouth, almost a sigh, and his leg stills under Brady’s hand, eyes slipping shut. Brady chalks that up as a win and kisses Jimmy deeper, until Jimmy’s not holding himself quite as tightly anymore, seems content to kiss Brady back instead of worrying about what’s coming next. 

Brady gradually moves his hand further up Jimmy’s thigh, and Jimmy's leg twitches, once, before he’s lifting himself up and straddling Brady’s thighs. It’s the most forward Brady’s seen him be yet, and it does something to him, makes his stomach curl up tightly, pleased. 

“Hello,” he says, a little breathless, a lot dorky, and if Jimmy wasn’t laughing, Brady would be swearing to him he’s usually more chill than this. 

As it is, Jimmy says, “Hi,” and leans down to kiss him, so Brady can’t complain. He lets himself be kissed and settles his hands on Jimmy’s thighs, then a little higher, on his ass. Jimmy chokes on his breath a little, hips rocking forward, and Brady’s idly aware that they've never touched like this before. 

The thought makes him hungry, all of a sudden, and he squeezes Jimmy’s ass, drags him forward at the same time as he rocks his hips up. He worries, for a moment, that he might be moving too fast, but Jimmy just bites Brady’s lip, his nails digging into Brady’s shoulders. 

Jimmy pushes down at the same time as Brady pushes up, and they find a rhythm between them. Brady slips his hand under Jimmy’s jeans, his boxers, to palm his ass, and Jimmy moans quietly. 

“Okay, you need to be out of these, like, yesterday,” Brady pulls back to say, slapping Jimmy’s thigh lightly. 

Jimmy laughs and climbs off Brady’s lap. “Okay,” he says, “You too.” he gestures at Brady’s clothes and Brady eagerly complies. 

They lay on the bed, once they’re both naked, Brady between Jimmy’s legs, making out. Jimmy’s hips keep rocking up and Brady can't help pushing down until they’re rubbing off on each other. 

Jimmy’s flushed this deep red color, and he keeps making these tiny sounds like he's trying to keep quiet and failing, and Brady’s pretty sure he could come like this. “You sure you want…” he asks, and he’s breathing hard, too. 

Jimmy nods. “Yeah,” he says. He spreads his legs, a little, where they’re resting against Brady’s sides, and he’s such a sight. 

“Okay,” Brady says, mouth having gone a little dry. 

Jimmy smiles and fists a hand in Brady’s hair, pulls him down for a kiss. Brady reaches for the lube, eventually, starts opening Jimmy up. He’s made it this far before, with a couple of girls, and he tries to remember what he liked having done to him, tries to replicate it on Jimmy.  He’s pretty sure he fails, at first, until Jimmy pulls back and says, “Try a little deeper,” in this hushed voice like he doesn’t want anyone to overhear them, even though they live alone. 

Brady does, and then Jimmy’s throwing his head back, legs falling open farther. Brady does it again, and Jimmy makes this sound, eyes squeezed shut, neck a taut line against the sheets.

“Holy shit,” Brady breathes out, and leans down to kiss Jimmy’s neck, his chest, wherever he can reach. “You look so good,” he goes on, and Jimmy shakes all over, Brady can feel it, with how tightly pressed together they are. 

“Shut up, god” Jimmy hisses, and he sounds a little panicked, a little scared, so Brady does. He sews his mouth shut and keeps fucking Jimmy with his fingers, until Jimmy’s a puddle on the sheets, his dick an angry red color against his stomach.

When Brady finally pushes into Jimmy, they’re on their sides, Jimmy’s back to Brady’s chest. Brady’s got an arm wrapped around Jimmy’s chest, fingers hooked over his shoulder, holding him close, and Jimmy’s back is arched, just a little bit. 

Jimmy sighs, at the first push, and he goes tight all over. Brady stills, kisses the back of Jimmy’s neck to feel him shiver. “Okay?” Brady asks. 

“Give me a sec,” Jimmy murmurs, so Brady does. He waits Jimmy out until Jimmy’s not quite as tense anymore, and then pushes in, just a little bit further. He goes slow, and that seems to work for Jimmy, has him linking their fingers together on his shoulder and breathing out, pushing into Brady.

Jimmy feels so good around Brady, and Brady wants, more than anything, to tell him, but he supposes that falls under the keep quiet category, so he keeps his mouth shut and kisses Jimmy instead, his shoulder and his neck and any other place that he can reach. Tries to replicate with his hips whatever he did with his fingers, and it starts to work after a while, has Jimmy choking on his breath, his fingers a vice grip around Brady’s. 

“Is that okay?” Brady can’t help but ask, just to - just to make sure. 

“Yeah, that’s - ” Jimmy chokes on his words, has to take in a breath. “Keep - keep going.”

And Brady does, gives Jimmy all that he has, until they’re both breathing hard and Brady’s getting dangerously close. He makes to let go of Jimmy’s hand so he can jerk him off, but Jimmy tightens his fingers and doesn’t let Brady go. 

“No,” he says. And, “Like this,” and he sounds so good, Brady just about loses it right there. 

As it is, he holds out and holds out still, until he feels Jimmy start to go tense again, and then he moves a little quicker, a little harder, and Jimmy’s coming, just like that, untouched. Brady comes maybe five seconds later, his teeth an indent on Jimmy’s shoulder, Jimmy’s name on his lips.

They lay together after, in Brady’s bed, a few inches between them but not enough that Brady can’t feel the warmth radiating from Jimmy’s skin. 

“My dad called me today,” Jimmy starts, eventually, and Brady turns to look at him. Jimmy’s looking at the ceiling, his arm folded under his head, his mouth a tight line. “He asked me if I had a - ” Jimmy clears his throat. “A boyfriend,” he manages.

Brady chuckles. “What did you say?”

Jimmy breathes out, deep enough that Brady can see his stomach dipping. “Nothing,” he says, and he sounds - he sounds like something Brady can’t put a name to. “I told him I didn’t.” he shrugs. 

“Anyway,” Jimmy says. “Should I…” he trails off, gesturing towards the door. 

“Nah,” Brady says. “We could watch a movie. if you want,” he adds.

Jimmy turns to looks at him then, and smiles, a little. “Okay,” he says. “But I’ve got to shower first, I feel disgusting.”

Brady laughs. He feels pretty disgusting too, covered in sweat. “Sure,” he says. 

They don’t end up showering together; Jimmy moves to the shower in the hallway and Brady doesn’t offer to join him because he’s pretty sure what the answer would be. 

Later, they veg out on Brady’s bed, a movie playing on his laptop. They start out on opposite ends of the bed, the laptop between them, but grow closer as the movie goes on, until their shoulders are touching, their arms, too. 

Jimmy eventually falls asleep, his head on Brady’s shoulder, and Brady doesn’t have it in him to kick him out, so he just nudges him awake and tells him to get under the covers. For a second, Jimmy looks like he’s about to argue, but he must be too sleepy because he ends up just nodding and lifting the covers on his side of the bed. 

It’s a king mattress, but they somehow drift closer and closer still, Jimmy’s chest to Brady’s back, almost but not quite spooning. Brady can hear Jimmy’s breathing, feel his breath on the back of his neck, and it feels good, that kind of warmth. Feels like something he’d maybe missed.

+

Jimmy gets up first, the next morning, so Brady wakes up to the smell of eggs cooking, which, Brady’s come to realize, is about the only breakfast food Jimmy knows how to make. It’s okay though, Brady doesn't mind, and it’s not as if he has any room to judge. He thanks Jimmy for the eggs, and gives Jimmy a weird look when he jumps after Brady reaches around him to grab a plate.

“You good?” Brady asks, because that’s a little weird.

“Yeah, it’s - I'm fine,” Jimmy manages. “You're welcome.” It’s a little stiff, which only makes Brady more weirded out. 

Thankfully, the awkwardness dissipates by the time Lindy picks them up for practice. After practice, the guys go out for lunch, and Step chirps Jimmy for ordering juice to go with his lunch instead or wine or something. Brady orders soda himself, but that’s way more dignified, so he escapes Step’s scrutiny. 

Jimmy suffers through it and slurps his juice annoyingly, which only fuels Step. “You know, this is why you’re single,” he says. “Ladies don’t like juice, kid,” he goes on, and Jimmy starts to squirm a little, his smile faltering for just a second. 

Brady could be reading this whole thing wrong, but he doesn’t think so, and he doesn’t think Jimmy is very comfortable with this topic either, so he jumps in, redirects Step’s attention to something hockey related, which is always good to get him going. Jimmy shoots him a look, a small smile, and Brady smiles back.

+

“Do you think I should come out to the team?” Jimmy asks him later, once they’re both home. Brady turns to look at him, and finds Jimmy staring at the TV, as he usually does, whenever they talk about this. 

Brady wants to tell him yes, because he knows, this team -  _ their  _ team - wouldn't be assholes, not about this, but at the same time, he knows he can’t promise that. Is pretty sure that this is not about what Brady wants, but about what Jimmy feels comfortable doing. 

“I think you should do what you want,” Brady tells him, slowly; carefully diplomatic. 

Jimmy doesn’t say anything to that, just keeps looking at the TV, and, as one FNL episode rolls onto the next, Brady gradually relaxes. 

“I think - I don’t really want to,” Jimmy says then, which knocks Brady back into high gear. 

“That’s fine,” he says. Jimmy came out to his parents only weeks ago, and Brady doesn’t know how this usually goes, but he thinks Jimmy’s done pretty good so far.

“Yeah, but other people - ”

“Other people are not you,” Brady cuts him off to say, which is not incredibly profound but will have to do.  

Jimmy is quiet again, after that, and Brady worries, that he maye said the wrong thing. “You could start small, if you wanted,” he says, around the thirty minute mark of the episode. “Like, tell one person, see how that goes.”

Jimmy doesn’t answer, but when Brady turns to him, Jimmy’s looking at the ceiling instead of the TV, so maybe he’s thinking about it. “I guess that makes sense,” he says finally. “Does Haysie count?” he asks.

Brady huffs a little at that and tells him that Haysie definitely counts. 

They hook up, later, and Brady sucks Jimmy off for the first time. Jimmy’s thick and warm on Brady’s tongue, and his fingers are tangled in Brady’s hair, urging him on. Brady sucks him down as far as he can, listens for the sounds Jimmy makes, breathy and punched-out of him, and decides he likes them, likes how they fill up the whole room. The whole thing gets Brady hard, but, like, it’s sex, it’ll do that. 

After, Brady climbs into Jimmy’s lap and Jimmy jerks him off, kissing him through it. They’re both too lazy to move once they’ve come, so they end up collapsing on Brady’s bed, breathing hard, hands still all over each other. Jimmy takes off his shirt and wipes his hand on it, and then they’re getting undressed, falling into bed, neither of them questioning it. 

They fall asleep barely touching but wake up plastered together, and it takes Brady a second to piece everything together and peel himself away. His alarm won’t go off for another twenty minutes, but he gets up and heads to the kitchen anyway, scours the fridge for some of Jimmy’s eggs and throws them into the pan. 

He wakes Jimmy up once the eggs are ready and they eat in silence, mostly, Jimmy reading through his emails and Brady going through the messages on the rangers’ group chat that he missed last night.

Lindy comes to get them, a little later, and they drive to practice together. It’s Jimmy’s turn to pick the radio station, and Lindy spends the entire ride over to practice making fun of him for his taste in music. Brady is with him, because one direction isn't that much better, but at least it’s not country. Jimmy takes it in stride, the way he does whenever the team turns on him. By the time they make it to the rink Brady and Lindy are laughing, and Jimmy looks he’s trying not to. 

Practice is gruelling, as usual, and after, Jimmy ditches them in favor of hanging with Haysie. Brady nods when Jimmy tells him and tries not to put too much stock to it, except Jimmy’s looking pretty nervous. 

Brady goes out for lunch with Step and Mac and then goes home and watches some Tv. Jimmy comes home a couple of hours later, and heads straight for the fridge. Brady’s laid out on the couch, his feet kicked up on the cushion, but he sits up once he hears the door close. Jimmy comes into the living room holding a tin of chocolate ice cream in one hand, and a spoon in the other, and proceeds to collapse onto the couch. 

Brady just stares at him throughout this sequence, waits until Jimmy uncaps the ice cream and digs his spoon into it before asking. 

“It didn't go well?” Because Jimmy’s pretty good about his diet, and he wouldn't be wallowing in ice cream if it did, probably. 

Jimmy shrugs and continues eating his ice cream. 

Brady feels his stomach flip, his brain frantically trying to catch up.

“It went fine,” Jimmy says with another shrug, dipping the spoon back into the ice cream. “He said that he’s glad I told him and patted me on the back,” he goes on. 

Brady presses his lips together and throws a pillow at him. Jimmy ducks it easily and turns to give him a look like,  _ what the fuck _ . He’s got some ice cream in the corner of his mouth, so it’s not quite as serious as he means for it to.

“You scared me, Jesus,” Brady says, laying back down on the couch. 

“Sorry,” Jimmy says, and he does sound it. He eats some more ice cream. “Just - It’s weird.”

“What is?” Brady prompts. 

Jimmy shrugs. “Everybody taking it so well. I thought - I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but it’s just - I didn’t think they’d be so accepting,” he says. 

Brady thinks Jimmy has a tendency to not give people too much credit. “It’s good to be wrong, though,” he says. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Jimmy nods, bringing the spoon to his mouth again. “It just makes it harder to remember that not everyone… you know,” he says. 

“Not everyone what?” Brady asks.

“Not everyone will be that way about it,” Jimmy fills in. 

It only just now dawns on Brady to ask, “Has anyone been not okay about it?” and he feels stupid for it, thinks he should have asked this earlier. 

Jimmy’s quiet for a while, which is answer enough on it’s own, even without what follows. “Friend of mine from college,” he says. He takes a bite of ice cream. “He’s the first person I told.”

“Shit, buddy, that sucks,” Brady says honestly. He can’t imagine being in that position, baring himself like that to someone only to have turns their back on him. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Jimmy says easily. “Anyway. He and I don’t talk anymore so.”

Brady has so many more questions he wants to ask, but it’s pretty clear, Jimmy doesn’t want to talk about it, so Brady keeps quiet, asks him about tonight’s game instead. They fall into conversation about hockey, which is easy enough between them, get sort of lost in it, until Jimmy points out that they should probably sleep if they want to be ready for tonight. 

+

They lose the game against the Stars, and, after, some of the guys go out to wallow. Jimmy isn’t one of them, but Brady is, Haysie, too, and he at least has the decency to wait until the end of the night before cornering Brady. 

“So,” he starts, quiet, while they wait for the Uber to get there. The rest of the guys have already gone, and he and Haysie are the only two left. 

“So,” Brady echoes, and he already sounds defensive, he can tell, even without Haysie’s smile. 

“I just wanted to ask how it’s been going with Jimmy,” Haysie says. 

Brady relaxes marginally at that, but only marginally. Haysie is nosy, and Brady doesn't want to give him too long of a leash, so he just says, “Things have been fine,” and leaves at that. 

Haysie deflates, a little, shoulders dropping. “I just meant - ” He cuts himself off, looking around, even though they’re pretty much alone. “I think you’re good for him,” he finishes. 

“Jimmy?” Brady asks, a little stupidly, half from the alcohol and half from the topic of conversation. 

“Yeah, Jimmy.” Haysie rolls his eyes. 

The Uber finally gets there and they both get in. Brady thinks that’s going to be it, but Haysie keeps going. “I’ve known him for a long time, and this is probably the most relaxed I’ve seen him,” he says. He doesn’t mention any names, so Brady takes care not to either, even though they’re not discussing anything sensational. 

“Yeah, that’s all him,” Brady is quick to say, because he hasn’t really done anything, just listened whenever Jimmy needed him to. 

“Sure, bud,” Haysie says, and his tone implies that he’s really just humouring Brady. 

The driver drops him off a little bit after that, and Brady flips Haysie off as he gets off the car. He takes the lift up to their apartment and fumbles a little with the lock but gets it open. Brady makes his way to his bedroom, takes off his clothes and looks at his bed, and it looks so empty. 

Maybe it’s that he’s a little tipsy, or maybe it’s the knowledge that Jimmy is merely a door over, but Brady thinks screw it and goes for it. He makes his way to Jimmy’s room, cracks the door open and peeks in, even though he can’t see much. 

“Jimmy?” he whispers, and gets an incoherent grumbling sound in return. “What are you doing?” Brady asks, more than a little stupidly. 

“What do you think,” Jimmy mumbles and rolls over onto his back. “What are  _ you  _ doing?”

“Can I sleep here?” Brady asks, quickly so he doesn’t lose his courage. 

Jimmy rolls onto his side again and sighs. “Do whatever gets you to stop talking,” he says, voice rough with sleep. 

Brady smiles and tiptoes his way to Jimmy’s bed, even though Jimmy’s already awake. He pulls the covers back and gets on the bed, on his side, parallel to Jimmy. Inches closer and closer still, until he’s plastered to Jimmy’s back, his arm thrown over Jimmy’s side. 

“So handsy,” Jimmy murmurs sleepily, but he pushes back into Brady. 

+

The next morning, Brady feels justifiably embarrassed about everything. He feels especially embarrassed when Jimmy wakes him up with a steaming cup of coffee and tells him that breakfast is ready, and even more embarrassed when he has to get up and face him. He manages to last through maybe twenty minutes of awkwardness before cracking. 

“So, about last night,” he starts, and Jimmy’s head whips up from where it’s bent over loading the dishwasher. It’s a little unnerving, Jimmy looking right at him, and Brady swallows. “I’m sorry if I - I was drunk, my filter was a little off. My personal space, too,” he says. 

Jimmy tilts his head to the side, looking at him. He smiles, a little. “It’s okay,” he says easily. 

“It’s really not.” Brady shakes his head. He tries to hand Jimmy another plate, but Jimmy corners him again the counter instead, the plate pressing into Brady’s stomach. “Whoa,” Brady says, and Jimmy laughs. 

“It’s okay,” Jimmy says. He takes the plate from Brady’s hands and leaves it on the counter behind them. “I like when you get handsy,” he says, and it’s probably the only thing he’s admitted to liking, out of everything that’s happened between them. It makes Brady’s stomach curl, and, when Jimmy leans in, makes Brady kiss him back. 

It’s all feeling a little too domestic, a little too much like a relationship which this isn’t, but it's the first time Jimmy’s initiated this out in the open, in broad daylight, and Brady doesn’t have the heart to tell him any of that. Instead he lets himself be kissed, and, later, led to his bedroom, where the bed is still unmade form yesterday.

Jimmy lays him out and sucks him off, a barely there kind of thing that has Brady begging in three minutes flat, hips coming off the bed and pressing into Jimmy’s mouth. Jimmy doesn’t have it; he throws an arm over Brady’s hips to hold him place with a not so surprising show of strength and teases him with his tongue until Brady’s eyes are rolling back. 

“Jimmy,” Brady breathes. “Jimmy, please,” he says, which seems to do the trick. Jimmy takes him into his mouth, swallows him down as far as he can and works his throat, and Brady’s coming, just like that, his hands fisted in the sheets, Jimmy’s arm holding him still. 

He returns the favor after, lets Jimmy fuck his mouth even though he can’t take him very deep but Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind. He comes and kisses Brady breathless after, and Brady adds this side of Jimmy to the other things he likes about him. 

+

Things go on like that for a while, carefully laid out domesticity hat Brady both likes and feels like has an expiration date. Jimmy grows a little more vocal, a little more daring as long they’re alone, and he come out to Millsy who takes it in stride and tells him that if Jimmy ever needs someone to go to to a gay bar with, Millsy’s in. Jimmy blushes as he relays this to Brady, and Brady thinks it’s kind of funny.

It all seems to be going well until March. Jimmy and Brady are, unsurprisingly, laid out on the couch watching TV, when Jimmy’s phone goes off. It’s his mom, and he leaves the room to talk to her. Brady doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, except the walls in their apartment are pretty thin, so when Jimmy says “You did what?” Brady can’t help but hear it.

He keeps catching half the conversation, Jimmy’s half, which doesn’t make much sense. Eventually he ups the volume on the TV because he just feels bad listening to what is very obviously a fight. 

Brady thinks Jimmy hangs up at some point, that’s what it sounds like at least, but he stays in his room for a while after that. Brady thinks about trying the door, but he doesn’t know if that would be overstepping, and he doesn’t want to push Jimmy, so he stays put. 

Jimmy comes out, eventually, and he’s visibly, literally, shaken - hand trembling where he’s clutching his phone. “My mom told my brother and sister,” he says, unprompted, and is voice shakes, too. 

Brady - he’s not sure what to say that. He doesn’t know why Jimmy’s shaking, why this is such a bad thing. “How did they take it?” he asks instead, the only thing he can think of. 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Jimmy says. He sits back on the couch and buries his face in his hands, runs his fingers through his hair. “They keep calling me and I - I can’t.” he says. He sounds a little frantic, the way Brady hasn’t heard him in a while, and it makes his stomach feel a little tight. 

“I should never have told them,” Jimmy goes on, from behind his hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have told them.”

“They’re your family,” Brady says uselessly. “Is it really so bad that they know?”

“You don’t - it’s not about that,” Jimmy mumbles. “What if - what if they tell someone else? What if - ”

“They won’t,” Brady cuts him off. 

“You don't know that,” Jimmy says, which is a good point. 

Brady breathes out. He doesn’t know what else to say and Jimmy isn’t looking any more calm, so he does the only thing he can think of: gets up and climbs into Jimmy’s lap. Pries Jimmy’s hands away from his face and forces Jimmy to look at him. Leans down and kisses him, once Jimmy does. 

It’s shallow, chaste, but pretty soon Jimmy’s kissing him back hard, nails digging into Brady’s thighs through his sweats, and if this is what Jimmy needs right now, then Brady will make sure this is what he’s going to get. He lets Jimmy kiss him and then takes Jimmy to bed, where Jimmy shyly asks if Brady wants to while pushing his ass into Brady’s hand.

Despite everything, they haven’t gotten to do this much over the past couple of months. Maybe a handful of times, Brady thinks as he works Jimmy open on his fingers. Jimmy likes it, if the small sounds he makes are anything to go by, Brady thinks. He makes the same sounds now, spread open on Brady’s fingers, and Brady pulls back from kissing just so he can hear them.

When Brady pushes into him, they’re facing each other, Brady’s face buried in Jimmy’s neck, Jimmy’s legs wrapped around him. Brady moves slow, and Jimmy even slower, and they gradually find a rhythm between them, tentative and a little disjointed. 

Brady feels so close to Jimmy like this, can feel his breath and his heartbeat too, against his chest, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. It all feels too much, and Brady is idly aware that that’s not the way it should be. Still, when Jimmy kisses his neck, Brady turns until their lips meet, hard but chaste, kisses him back. 

Jimmy’s fingers dig into Brady’s side where he’s holding him, and Brady hisses, when Jimmy’s nails drag over skin. 

“Sorry,” Jimmy murmurs. 

“No, you’re good,” Brady says. He rocks his hips forward and Jimmy gasps, eyes falling shut and head tilting back, and he looks so good. Brady leans down to kiss his neck, drag his teeth over the sensitive skin there. 

“No - no marks,” Jimmy manages.

“I know,” Brady says, but gentles his teeth, his lips, too.

After, they lay together, Brady's head on Jimmy’s shoulder, Jimmy’s fingers running through Brady's hair. Brady’s got a leg thrown over Jimmy’s, and he can feel Jimmy’s ribcage rising and falling with each of his breaths. 

And Brady knows, he knows this isn’t the way it’s supposed to bem, but he can’t bring himself to care, not right now. 

Jimmy leaves, at some point, to talk to his brother, and Brady leaves him to it. He showers and orders some dinner, and then calls his parents. They talk about practice and the team for a while, and then his mom tells him what Ramsey’s been up to. She asks about Jimmy, eventually, and Brady’s throat gets stuck, trying to answer. He manages a “Jimmy’s fine,” but it’s forced, and she’s silent for a second, on the other end of the line. 

Jimmy still isn't done, by the time Brady hangs up, but the food gets there a few minutes later, so Brady digs in. He’s still eating when Jimmy comes out of his room, his phone clutched in his hand, his lips set in a firm line. 

“I ordered dinner, if you want,” Brady says, because he’s not sure if Jimmy will want to talk about it. 

Jimmy startles, like he was in a whole different place in his head. “Uhm,” he says. “Sure. Thanks,” he goes on, but makes no move to reach for the takeout bag. 

“You’re not going to ask?” he asks Brady instead. 

Brady puts his plate down so he can focus his full attention on Jimmy. “Do you want me to?”

Jimmy sighs. He joins Brady on the couch, sits next to him instead of his usual spot. “It helps, I guess. When we talk about things,” he explains. 

Brady doesn’t smile, but he wants to. The thought makes him feel warm, all of a sudden, and he squashes down the feeling. “What happened?”

“My brother asked me if I was sure. If I knew what this meant for hockey, like I’m stupid or something,” Jimmy says. “Like I don’t already know.”

“He’s just looking out for you,” Brady says.

“I know,” Jimmy says quickly. “It’s just - the way he said it. Like he thought I had a choice. Like I’d be - like I chose to be - ”

“I get that,” Brady says, mostly because he can’t watch Jimmy struggle with it.

Jimmy sighs. “My sister was better about it, I think,” he says. “She asked me if I needed help getting a date.” He chuckles a little, at that, but it’s mostly just breath, no humor behind it.

“What did you tell her?” Brady asks, and his heart is beating in his throat, his ears burning with it, and he can’t figure out why. 

Jimmy gives him a weird look, head titled to the side and eyes a little narrowed, and then he smiles. “I told her no,” he says.

Brady relaxes slightly at that and can’t tell why.

“Anyway, between my sister and Millsy I have my hands full with offers,” Jimmy goes on. 

“What about me?” Brady blurts out. 

Jimmy’s eyes grow a little wide, like he’s surprised, and, honestly, Brady is, too. He thinks about taking it back, saying nevermind or something, but Jimmy’s is there before Brady has a chance to. “Your offer is the most enticing,” he says, and his voice is deep, his face red, and Brady shivers with it.

“Uh, thanks,” he manages, awkward, throat dry, and Jimmy smiles. 

“Anyway,” Jimmy says. “I was going to go to bed, if you…” he trails off, gesturing towards his bedroom, and Brady should probably say no. They’ve been veering too close for too long though and another night of sleeping together is probably not going to do more damage. 

“Sure,” he says, and follows Jimmy.

+

“So, I wanted - I needed to talk to you about something,” Jimmy starts, the next morning. He sounds nervous, and he looks it too, hands shoved in his pockets, a little fidgety. 

Brady checks the time. “Can it wait? We’re gonna run late,” he says, because he has no doubt, if it comes down to it, Lindy will not hesitate to leave their asses stranded here. 

Jimmy shrugs. “It won’t take long,” he says. 

“Okay,” Brady says easily. “Give it to me.”

That makes Jimmy smile, and Brady feels marginally better. “I just - I know this was just you helping me out,” Jimmy starts. It takes Brady a minute to catch up, and then he blushes. “I know that,” Jimmy goes on, emphatic, like he needs for Brady to get that. 

“Okay,” Brady says, slow. He suddenly has an inkling of where this is heading, and his stomach is twisting already, his heart thumping in his chest. 

“I only wanted to say - ” he pauses, looking away from Brady. He shifts his weight between his feet and Brady wants him to just  _ say  _ it already, so he can stop biting the inside of his cheek. “I like you,” Jimmy says, and it’s like Brady's world stops spinning for a moment. He feels off balance, and there’s something ringing in his ears, and oh god no. 

“I really like you, Brady,” Jimmy goes on, and then he’s closing the distance between them, and his lips are on Brady’s, and it  _ hurts _ , when Brady has to push him away. 

“Jimmy, buddy,” Brady starts, and the five seconds that Jimmy looks at him smiling and hopeful before his face falls are probably the worst of Brady’s life. “I’m sorry,” he says, for lack of anything better. 

Jimmy’s eyes grow wide, his mouth dropping open, a little, and he takes a step back, then another one. “Oh,” he says, and it sounds - it sounds so small, Brady hates himself for it. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, uselessly. 

“I - It’s okay,” Jimmy says quickly. He laughs, a little self-deprecating, a lot sad, and takes another step away from Brady. There’s so much space between them now.

“Jimmy - ” Brady starts, but Jimmy cuts him off. It’s probably for the better; Brady doesn’t know what to say after that. 

“We should get going,” Jimmy says. He checks the time, and they’ve still got a few minutes left, but Brady doesn’t say that. 

He just says, “Okay,” and lets Jimmy retreat to his room until Lindy rings for them to come down. 

The car ride over to practice is awkward, mostly because neither Jimmy nor Brady will talk to each other. Lindy notices, Brady’s sure of it, but doesn’t comment on it, and for that Brady is grateful. Practice is marginally better since Brady and Jimmy don’t have to interact much, but Brady’s distracted and it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Mac tells him to get his head in the game, and Smitty keeps giving him funny looks, and all Brady can think about is all the things he could have said better, a softer way to shoot Jimmy down. He wishes he didn’t have to shoot Jimmy down at all, except… well, he’s not - he’s just not.

After practice, Jimmy goes to hang out with Haysie, and Brady doesn’t stop him. Why would he, anyway. Brady goes to Smitty’s for some D-men bonding time, by which he means a few rounds of NHL17 and some take out. 

Jimmy’s already there, when Brady gets back home, but the door to his room is shut, so Brady doesn’t bother him. He figures Jimmy’s probably sleeping before the game, and Brady should too.

They lose to the Panthers that night, and shootout losses always suck, but at least they got a point. Some guys go out after but Brady isn’t one of them and neither is Jimmy. The two of them Uber back to their place without talking, and it’s awkward, and Brady hates himself a little bit for it. Jimmy’s come to be one of his best friends, and Brady can’t even talk to him now. 

He thinks about that, as they take the lift up to their apartment but is too chicken to say anything, and Jimmy is quiet too. He heads for his room as soon as the door to the apartment is shut behind them, and Brady figures that Jimmy maybe needs sometimes to lick his wounds or something, so he leaves him to it.

+

They win on the road, both Minnesota and New Jersey, and that feels nice. Brady scores a goal at home, and that feels even better. They go out after the game, and there’s a girl at the bar looking at Brady, and it’s been a while, but, looking at Jimmy, Brady thinks _ why not _ . Jimmy isn't looking at him, and he’s deep in conversation with Millsy, and it was just an arrangement to help Jimmy out, nothing more.

Brady buys the girl - Katy - a drink, and they end up talking for a while, then dancing, once the music changes to something more upbeat. She eventually asks him if he wants to come home with her, and Brady leans down to kiss her in answer. He leaves her alone for a minute to go grab his coat, and there’s catcalls and whistles from the table and Step thumping Brady on the back, but Brady makes it out with his dignity relatively intact.

He leaves, later, just in time to make curfew, and somehow manages to bump into Jimmy on his way back to his room. 

“Oh,” Jimmy says when he sees him. He looks at Brady’s hair, and it’s probably still tousled from Katy’s fingers, and Brady, inexplicably, feels bad. 

“Hey.” Brady clears his throat, awkward.

Jimmy sighs and takes his cap off, runs a hand through his hair. “Listen,” he says, and Brady both freaks and relaxes simultaneously, and he thinks Jimmy’s the only person who can do that to him. 

“This is awkward,” Jimmy acknowledges, and Brady is grateful that they at least don’t have to beat around the bush anymore. “And I never wanted that.”

“It’s not on you,” Brady argues, because it took two of them for things to get like this. 

“Still, I just - you’re my best friend,” Jimmy says. “And I just want to be able to talk to you again.” He’s blushing as he says it, and his voice is really quiet,and Brady feels so monumentally relieved to have this out in the open. 

“Thank god,” he says. “I - It’s the same for me.”

Jimmy smiles, his entire body going loose with it. “Good,” he says. “So, can we agree to put this behind us? Like, just forget about it?” he suggests. 

Brady is nodding before Jimmy is even finished, and then they’re saying good night, heading into their respective rooms. It’s not until the door is shut behind rady that he thinks about Jimmy’s words more carefully, and they leave him with an empty feeling in his chest, because he doesn’t want - he doesn’t want to just forget about what he and Jimmy - 

Well, they didn’t  _ have  _ something, not quite, but it was still a fun time and Brady would be a lying liar if he pretended that wasn’t the case. Still, his friendship with Jimmy is more important than any fun times, so he pushes the thought aside, pushes the empty feeling aside, too, and goes to bed.

+

They play the Islanders at home and win, and it’s the California road trip after that. They only win one out of three, LA, and they go out after, with Jimmy and Brady finding themselves pushed together in the booth. 

They have a couple of drinks, and Jimmy keeps glancing at a guy sitting at one of the tables across from them, quick and from the corner of his eye, like he doesn’t want people to notice. 

Brady notices. It’d be hard not to, with how close Jimmy and he are sitting. He doesn’t - he looks at Jimmy looking at the guy and something unsettles inside him, something he doesn't care to look at too closely. Instead he keeps Jimmy engaged in conversation, and doesn’t realize it’s meant to distract Jimmy until the guy gets up to go to the bar and Jimmy follows him. 

Brady’s mouth fills with a sour taste, and he tries to wash it down with beer, but that doesn’t work. He tries to make Jimmy out in the crowd, and can’t, and has to push down the urge to get up and follow him. He thinks - he thinks that wouldn't be - it just wouldn’t be fair; Jimmy shouldn't get to live in celibacy only to inflate Brady’s ego. 

He’s too hung up on that at first to even realize how big of a step this is for Jimmy, Jimmy who couldn’t even admit he was gay to Brady and an empty room.

Brady still can’t let it go, though, so when Jimmy doesn’t come back for twenty minutes, Brady gets up and gathers his things. He makes his goodbyes to the guys and leaves for the door, only to have Haysie catch up to him on his way there. He follows Brady outside and sits on the bench outside the bar, patting the space next to him.

Brady looks at Haysie, and he thinks Haysie is gearing up for something, and Brady would rather be literally anywhere else right now. 

“I’m kind of beat…” Brady tries, and it’s not a lie. All the ugliness is catching up to him, and that’s not the kind of person he wants to be.

“Won’t take long,” Haysie argues, and he doesn’t seem willing to let it go, so Brady sighs and takes a seat. 

“It’s about Jimmy,” haysie starts, and Brady’s mouth goes dry. 

“What about him?” he asks, and hopes to god his voice doesn’t sound strange.

“I’ve noticed things between you guys have been… less than smooth,” Haysie says. “And then - you in Minnesota,” he goes on, careful. “And Jimmy now, and just - I wanted you to know, if you needed to talk about anything, that - you know, I’m here,” he finishes, and this has got to be the most awkward Brady’s ever heard him, and it makes him feel awkward. He can’t even follow what Haysie’s saying, never mind his train of thought. 

“Uhm, thanks,” Brady says awkwardly. “But - it’s fine, things are fine.” It’s weak, even to his own ears, and Haysie may know about Jimmy, but he doesn’t know about Brady’s and Jimmy’s arrangement and he doesn’t need to, not if Brady can help it.

“I’m just saying’,” Haysie goes on, relentless, 

“Haysie - ” Brady tries but he’s cut off.

“Whatever’s happening between you two - ”

“Kevin,” Brady tries again, voice going tight.

“Whatever’s happening between you and Jimmy - ”

“There is no me and Jimmy,” Brady lets out, and it’s not - he didn’t meant to be that loud. He looks around, but they’re alone, just them, and the thump of the bar behind them.

“Sorry,” he tries, “Just…”

“No, I get that,” Haysie is quick to say. “Maybe I - maybe I overstepped,” he says, and that’s not even the problem.

“Yeah, okay,” Brady says, because he sure as fuck doesn’t want to try explaining the problem to Haysie.

The mood is subdued after that, and Haysie apologizes. Brady tells him it’s fine and then they say goodnight, and Brady leaves. 

Back at the hotel, Brady can't sleep. He tries, spends a few minutes tossing and turning until he finally gives up and slips a hand in his underwear. He thinks about reaching for his phone or his laptop, but he’s too lazy for it, and, anyway, he’s got a good enough imagination, he’ll make do.

He starts stroking himself off slowly, conjuring up images of hot girls in his head, and it’s sort of working. It’s getting him there, and by the time he’s close, he’s let his mind start to wonder. It lands on Jimmy fo all people, Jimmy down on his knees, looking up at Brady through his ridiculous lashes that would look gorgeous on a girl. Jimmy spread open for him, making those tiny sounds, and it’s so wrong, it  shouldn’t be working for Brady but it is, and Brady ends up coming hard, hot stripes landing along his stomach.

Brady feels terrible after. He tries to mark is down as a one time thing, a fluke, but he thinks about how jealous he was of Jimmy going after another guy, how he conjured it up to his ego, and realizes it wasn’t about that after all. It was more about Brady wanting Jimmy for himself, Brady -

Brady liking Jimmy. 

Brady doesn’t sleep much, that night.

+

Brady, in general doesn’t sleep much over the next few days. He and Jimmy talk, but it’s not - Brady can’t even look at him. He spends fifty per cent of the time avoiding Jimmy’s gaze and the other fifty per cent hoping Jimmy won’t notice anything different, and basically one hundred per cent of the time lying. 

At least he’s not lying to himself anymore, he reasons, which, surprisingly, doesn’t soften the blow at all.

Brady also spends a lot of time wondering if this is how Jimmy felt, this scared, all the time, and asks himself how Jimmy managed it. He thinks about everything that’s happening in his mind right now, and he can’t imagine carrying that around with him for months, let alone years.

Some of the time, Brady wishes he had said yes, back at the kitchen where Jimmy kissed him, but he mostly knows he’d have regretted it, one way or another, because whatever Brady’s got in his chest, it doesn’t feel like it’s ready to be out there.

+

Jimmy brings a guy home, one night. He warns Brady beforehand, of course, and even asks him if that’s okay with him, and it’s not, it’s so not, but it’s not like Brady can say that, so he just nods and says, “Go for it.”

Brady didn’t even know that Jimmy was that serious with someone, serious enough to bring them home with him, introduce them to Brady; let them into his life. Brady tries - and fails - not to feel too hurt by that and instead helps Jimmy tidy up the place.

The guy - Nick - is actually not that bad. He’s kind of skinny but good looking, blond, not what Brady would imagine Jimmy’s type to be, but then again, Brady’s mostly going off himself, which is at least arrogant if not condescending.

Nick shakes Brady’s hand and says, “oh, you’re Brady,” in a tone like he knows him, and Brady’s heart stops beating in his chest, but Jimmy wouldn't - he wouldn't talk about that, about what he and Brady had going. 

“You’ve heard about me?” Brady forces out, and it sounds like exactly that: forced.

“Only good things, I promise,” Nick says. He moves a little closer to Jimmy and slips an arm around his waist, affectionate. Jimmy tenses, if only for a second, and Brady wouldn’t do that, not without checking in with Jimmy first, not when he knows how shy Jimmy gets about this. 

But maybe Jimmy’s moved past that, now. Maybe.

“Good to know,” Brady says now.

The three of them talk for a little longer, mostly Brady and Nick with Jimmy chiming in every once in a while. They move to the living room, at some point, and Brady tries really hard not to like Nick, but he’s a good guy, and Jimmy laughs at a few of his jokes, and Brady feels like puking, mostly, watching them. 

Brady makes his goodbyes, eventually, retreats into his room to give them some privacy. He spends the following two hours running every possible scenario through his head:  _ did Jimmy tell him, did Nick get it on his own, what does he think of Brady now _ , so by the time Nick leaves and Jimmy comes to knock on Brady's door, Brady’s a nervous wreck.

Still, he tries to pull it together enough to give a positive response when Jimmy asks what he thought of Nick. “Yeah, he was pretty cool. Funny guy,” Brady says, and it at least sounds moderately convincing. 

Jimmy’s shoulders slump and he gives Brady this smile, like he’s relieved. “Good, I - that’s good.”

Jimmy turns around to leave, but Brady can’t help it, he blurts out, “Does he know?” 

When Jimmy frowns, he goes on, “About - ” Brady remembers Haysie and their talk, and stops just short of saying  _ us _ . He leaves it like that, and thankfully Jimmy gets it.

Jimmy’s expression shutters, a little, and he shakes his head. “No, of course not,” he says. “I wouldn't - I haven’t told anyone. I would never, not without asking you first,” he says earnestly, and Brady feels like an enormous weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

“That’s good,” he echoes stupidly. He ducks his head, nervous all over again, suddenly, and asks, “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Oh,” Jimmy says, and he looks so surprised by the offer. “Sorry, just - Nick is actually waiting downstairs. We were going to go back to his place,” he goes on, apologetic, and Brady shuts his mouth pretty efficiently at that. 

“Is that okay?” Jimmy asks. 

“I - sure,” Brady lies. “Have fun.”

Jimmy smiles, and Brady thinks he blushes a little bit. “Will do. Thanks,” he says, and closes the door behind himself. 

Brady spends the rest of the day thinking about Nick’s arm around Jimmy’s waist, and playing depressing songs on his guitar. He thinks how it could’ve been him in Nick’s shoes, if only he’d had the guts - or the epiphany - to not shoot Jimmy down. Thinks about how far Jimmy’s come and feels both proud and jealous of him, and he  _ hates  _ that. 

He doesn't sleep well that night, and the next morning, at practice, he’s a mess, bad enough to warrant a couple of glares from Smitty and the coaching staff, when he fucks up, some side eyeing from Mac.

Mac pulls Brady aside after practice and basically tells him not to let personal shit get in the way of hockey, so Brady gets to feel like shit about that on top of everything else. He gets home and Nick is there, with Jimmy, and they’re watching something on TV. They’re not cuddling but it’s a close thing, and Brady feel this ugly sense of jealousy overflow him, and he cannot even deal with this today. 

He doesn’t bother saying hello, just passes by them and heads to his room, pulls the door shut behind himself. He’s fully aware he’s being rude, but everything feels so overwhelming right now, and the last thing he needed was Jimmy’s boyfriend around. 

He spends a couple of hours messing around on his laptop and then the guitar, and he’s starting to feel better, just a little. It helps that at some point he hears the front door close, and then there’s a knock on his door.

“Come in,” Brady says, and has to fight down a too obvious smile when he sees it’s Jimmy. He’s not smiling, though, and Brady’s good mood just about dies in his throat. 

Jimmy shuts the door and leans against it, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you okay?” he asks, and Brady does a double take. 

“I - yeah, sure,” he says. 

Jimmy’s expression softens. “Sure? I mean, I know we haven’t talked much lately, but if there’s anything you need, I’m here,” he says. 

Brady’s ego is still hurt from the talk he had with Mac, so it’s not Jimmy’s fault, but that still rubs him of the wrong way. “Are you?” he asks, before he can stop himself, then wants to shove his fist in his mouth to keep quiet.

Jimmy frowns. “What do you mean?” he asks, and Brady's heart aches, with all the things he wants to say and can’t. The words feel too big for his mouth, too wrong to be out there. He wonders if this is how Jimmy felt, and then gets to feel terrible about everything all over again.

Brady can’t tell Jimmy any of the things he wants, so instead he says, “Nothing, I - aren’t you worried?” and it’s both what he wants to ask and so, so not. 

“Worried about what?”

Brady thinks about Nick and Jimmy together, Nick getting to have everything that Brady used to. He thinks about that, and then he blurts out, “Nick telling someone,” and it’s spiteful, making Jimmy reel back like he’s been slapped. Brady - he’s not surprised; he just hit Jimmy where it hurts most, and he wishes he could take it back, as soon s the words are out of his mouth, as soon as he sees the way Jimmy’s face twists at them, he wishes he had said literally anything else. 

“Jimmy, I didn’t - ” he tries, but it’s not - it’s just  _ not _ . 

“I trust him,” Jimmy says, and his voice is a little shaky, fists curling. “I trust him and you should trust me,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door banging shut behind him.

“Jimmy,” Brady tries calling after him, but he hears the front door open and close again, and slumps back against the headboard, chest heavy with everything that he said wrong. 

Brady stays up until one, but Jimmy doesn’t come back, and in the morning, he’s not home. Brady wonders where he stayed over, if it was nick’s or a teammate’s, then decides he doesn’t care, as long Jimmy stayed over somewhere.

Brady decides to text him, before practice, just a quick,  _ worried abt you last night. everything ok? _

_ fine. stayed over at millsy’s. see you at practice _ , he gets back, which is about the most awkward conversation the two of them have ever had over text.

_ ok _ , Brady sends back and locks his phone. 

Practice is better this time, mostly because Brady is hyper aware of not screwing up, trying his best to do everything right. He hates letting people down, Mac more than anyone, and yesterday’s conversation is probably going to sting for a while, but the least Brady can do is to learn from it. 

After practice, Brady and Jimmy take an uber back to their place, and the ride isn’t uncomfortable, it’s just that neither of them utters a word throughout the whole thing. Brady waits until they’re in the apartment and tries apologizing again, feels like an ass when Jimmy shuts him down. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he says, giving Brady a small smile. “It’s - it’s a weird situation to be in, I get that, but I really do trust Nick. I would never have gone out with him if I didn’t.”

“That’s - that’s good to know,” Brady manages. “I just - I was just tired, I didn’t mean it.”

Jimmy nods. “I get that, it’s fine,” he says, but it doesn’t quite sound like he believes Brady.

+

The last game of the season creeps up on Brady. The team goes out after, Brady and Jimmy with them, though Jimmy only stays for an hour or so. Brady spends the entire hour trying not to look at him and failing, and the next thirty minutes wondering why Jimmy left so early. It’s a little pathetic, if he’s being honest, and he’d probably keep wondering if not for Haysie knocking him out of it.

“You gotta let it go, pal,” he tells Brady, and it  _ hurts _ , how real it feels, this bone deep thing that grazes against Brady’s chest. 

Brady almost, almost asks,  _ let what go? _ , but he doesn’t know who he’d be fooling, himself or haysie, if he tried that. “I don’t want to,” Brady admits, and it sounds kind of petulant, kind of childish, but it’s the first time he's admitting this, out loud.

Haysie sighs. “Then I don’t know what to tell you,” he says. 

Brady nods. He looks at his half empty beer bottle, looks at the seat where Jimmy sat. He thinks, a little frantically, that it shouldn't be this difficult, it shouldn't feel this heavy, this thing inside him. 

“I think I like Jimmy,” Brady blurts out, before he can chicken out of it. He faceplants onto the table right after, too scared to see Haysie’s reaction, but Haysie just pats him on the back. Brady’s heart thumps in his chest, and his body sags with relief.

“Well, you guys live together,” Haysie mumbles. “It’d be weird not to like him.”

Brady rolls his shut eyes. “Jesus, Haysie. I meant…” he trails off, and he gets it now, for the first time, the kind of fear Jimmy felt admitting this, uttering the word  _ guy _ . He wonders, also for the first time, the kind of guts it took for Jimmy to come clean to Brady about his feeling, how much it hurt to be shot down like that. 

“I got that part, kid,” Haysie says, even though he’s like a year older than Brady. 

“What do I do?” Brady mumbles, turning his head to the side. 

“Tell him?” Haysie suggests. 

Brady sighs. “It’s not that easy.” He sits up and downs the rest of his beer. “I’m - I’m straight,” he says, then thinks about Jimmy, his lashes, his smile; his mouth and how it felt when Jimmy kissed him with it and amends. “I like girls.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” Haysie says gently, and Brady knows that, he does. But it drives a hole through his chest, listening to Haysie say it, because that's different. Brady can’t breathe, suddenly, and he clutches at his chest, blinks to clear his vision. 

“Buddy, you okay?” Haysie asks. He puts a hand on Brady’s shoulder and gives him a shake, and Brady -

He likes Jimmy. He likes Jimmy so much. He hates it when Jimmy’s upset and loves to see him smile, and it’s so stupid, that he’s sitting here talking to Haysie about it instead of Jimmy. 

“Yeah, I - I need to go,” Brady says, and flees the bar. 

The ride back to the apartment is the twenty longest minutes of Brady’s life, and that includes some pretty serious hockey. The elevator is on the tenth floor when Brady gets home, and like hell is he going to wait to wait for that, so he just takes the stairs. 

He’s heaving by the time he makes it to their floor, and regretting his life choices, and it’s not until he’s barged in through the door that it occurs to him that maybe Jimmy isn’t alone. A sour taste fills his mouth and he thinks about turning back, but Jimmy is right there on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV, and he’s alone. 

“You’re back early,” he says without looking up, and it’s so fuckign surreal, that Brady’s here to confess his big gay feelings and Jimmy’s talking to him about the goddamn time. 

“Uhm,” Brady says, very eloquent. “I wanted - shit, fuck.” he shakes his head, tries again. “Where’s Nick?”

Jimmy finally looks up at that. “He and I - we - ” he clears his throat and turns back to the TV. “I don’t think he'll be coming here again.”

Brady is overcome with such relief at that that he feels like the biggest asshole in the world. “I’m sorry,” he says still, because this can’t be easy for Jimmy, Brady doesn’t think. 

Jimmy turns to frown at him. “I know you didn’t like him, it’s okay,” he says, even though his tone implies that it’s most certainly not. 

And Jimmy couldn't have it more wrong. “It wasn’t about him,” he says, a sudden burst of courage. 

Jimmy’s eyes narrow a little, and Brady’s ears are ringing, his palms sweating. He wonders if this is what Jimmy felt like, that day in the kitchen, and feels so bad all of a sudden. 

“What?” Jimmy asks, and it’s not - it’s mild, the way he usually is, but all Brady can thinks is how he shot Jimmy down, how he turned Jimmy’s biggest fear against him and hurt him. 

“I - ” Brady tries; comes up short.  “I’m sorry,” he says, which feels so, so lacking. 

“What are you talking about?” Jimmy asks. He mutes the TV and gets up. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Brady laughs. “I think - I’m pretty sure - ” he takes one last breath and thinks  _ now or never _ , says, “I like you.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen, then narrow, and it’s a little funny but not really. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step back, head tilted to the side. “Are you drunk?” he asks and it feels like a punch to the gut. 

“No, Jimmy, I’m not,” Brady says quietly. “I just - I really like you.”

Jimmy opens his mouth, closes it again. “I don’t - I asked you, and you - ”

“I know,” Brady says. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at Jimmy. “I - I guess it just took me a while to realize it,” he goes on.

Jimmy stands his ground, keeps looking at Brady with something Brady can’t quite decipher. “What about what you said?” he finally asks. “What about people finding out,” he goes on, and Brady gets it, now, gets to feel sick over it all over again.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says again, and he means as much as the first time, but it doesn’t seem to ease Jimmy at all. 

“I don’t know,” Brady admits, when Jimmy doesn’t budge. “I have no idea. I just - I just know that I like you,” he says. 

Jimmy nods, like he’s taking that in. There’s a long moment of silence, and then Jimmy’s saying, “Nick broke up with me because he didn’t want to be my rebound.”

Brady’s heart is thumping away in his chest, a beat that Brady can feel up to his ears. 

“Rebound from you,” Jimmy clarifies, like Brady hadn’t already gotten that. 

“I’m sorry,” Brady says, uselessly and dishonestly because he’s glad nick isn’t here anymore. 

Jimmy purses his lips. He tightens his arms where they’re crossed over his chest. “I tried to get over you,” he says. He lets his head hang between his shoulder and goes on, “I really did.”

And Brady, he’s got nothing to say to that, nothing except, “I don’t want you to get over me.”

Jimmy looks up at that, arms dropping to his sides. He rubs a hand over his face and sucks in a breath. “Jesus, Brady,” he says. 

“Just - Just give me a chance,” Brady says. “Please.”

“Give us a chance,” he goes on, a little quiet, very hopeful. 

Jimmy is quiet, and, for a moment, Brady doesn’t dare look at him. When he finally finds the courage to raise his eyes to Jimmy’s face, Jimmy’s smiling, crookedly, and it's another one of those things that make Brady’s stomach curl pleasantly.

“Okay,” Jimmy says, and Brady is caught staring at him, for a moment. “Now are you just gonna stand there or...” he trails off, and that’s the only incentive Brady needed.

He smiles and crosses the distance between them and crowds Jimmy against the dining room table before kissing him, and it feels even more surreal now, that he gets to have this. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :))
> 
> i also have a [tumblr](http://tboobs.tumblr.com/)!


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